Nothing To Write Home About
by D0llieDaydream
Summary: I guess you're better to keep your mouth shut. I should know, after all. Slash. K2.
1. 0x It Starts Here

**A/N:**_Okay, so here's like, the first multi-chaptered fic I've done in about 5000 years. I thought it'd die on it's ass within a couple days, but I've actually done alright with it, and figured it was worth posting. I wanted to do something written in first person, and it ended up as Kenny, naturally, ffff. So... This was basically an experiment that I got carried away with. I've probably jinxed myself by posting it now, so if it dies: my bad, sorry. Secondly, if you were wondering why it's labelled as "0", this is like a prelude of sorts. I know, how irritating, but like, this was too short to be a proper chapter but didn't fit as nicely with the next part. So, this is just like a little introduction, I spose. Oh! Things I should prolly warn you of! This fic contains a fair amount of; Gay, sexy stuff, violence, drug use and lots of bad language (naturally). Okay. I'ma stop rambling and let you read the damn thing._

* * *

Last night I had this really bizarre dream where I was reading this kid's book. The story's about this baby penguin looking for his Mom. Turns out at the end she's dead and well, he can't get to her in heaven.

I hate that. Those kinda dreams always make me really apprehensive. Once I was awake I went and grabbed my Mom and buried my face in her shoulder for five minutes.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." She pats me on the back a little and I'm thinking that she smells sorta like vodka and sorta like washing powder and that I don't know where else in the world I'll ever find that combination on a person. And I just stood there until I felt sure she wouldn't just drop down for no reason.

Of course, dreams are always supposed to have deeper meanings, but there's always the possibility of one of those déjà vu type things happening.

This kind of paranoia passed quickly because I found myself thinking that I wanted to do something interesting with my hair. The only problem being that it was always too long, or too short, and pretty much fell every which way, so it was a lost cause. And it's not like I could afford to get it done anyway. It was just a thought worth entertaining.

*

Everybody has favourites. Favourite clothes. Favourite TV shows. Favourite relatives. Kyle's favourite person is Stan.

Stan's favourite person is Wendy.

My favourite person, _if you must know_, is Kyle. But nobody knows this.

Hell, nobody asks.

And every now and then, at Kyle's place, I listen to Kyle cream his pants over Stan. And nobody ever listens to me cream my pants over Kyle, which is probably a good thing. But tonight it just wasn't cool.

We were in the garden. We were lying in the snow. Our jackets were way too thin to lie in the snow without getting damp, but he'd been speaking so long, it didn't seem to matter.

Half way through one of his sentences, I'd decided I was tired of this shit, and I just sat up. He stumbled through his sentence at that point and just watched me as I rolled over and straddled him.

I kissed him.

I don't know why. It was just something I felt like doing. Just a thought worth entertaining. And besides, I wanted him to stop talking.

So, I was done listening. I stood up and I walked back into his house. This conversation was over.

I didn't care.

I didn't care what he thought of Stan. I didn't care what he thought of Wendy. And I didn't care what he thought of their relationship. I just wanted him to shut up about it. I was done.

He didn't mention it. I wasn't even worth a 'what the fuck?'. That was just it.

But he didn't mention Stan all night.


	2. 1x You Live In The Opposite Direction

**A/N:** _Okay, really super quick note before I'm late to psychologyyyy. Here's chapter one... Same warnings as before apply. That's it rly... Toodles~_

* * *

Sunday night is great. I have this really fucking weird bedtime routine, especially for Sunday night.

I put off everything that has to be ready for Monday. That's shit like homework, things I've borrowed that I gotta find somewhere to give back, you get the picture.

Then I start putting off actually going to bed. I don't get undressed. I don't brush my teeth. I don't really do anything other than sit around my room, thinking of ways to put off sleep.

I go and wash my hands about ten times.

No, seriously.

I take whatever pills are left over from the weekend. This keeps me up for another five hours, mostly. It also causes me to wash my hands another ten times, coz man, _when you're this high, the handwash smells even cooler!_

I fall asleep about 3 hours before I'm supposed to be up for school. I oversleep. Every single time.

This particular Monday morning, I woke up at about 12. I walked into school, three hours late, at a leisurely pace.

I was going to sit next to Kyle and Stan upon entering the lunch hall. But unfortunately for me, they fell silent and gave me that "you're intruding" look. So I just scooted over and found myself a seat by Clyde.

I listened to them talking about a movie I hadn't seen yet. I waited for the bell to ring. I had English once lunch was over.

Stan caught up with me on my way to my class. "Why bother coming in at all if you're gonna leave it so late?" Stan always asks me dumb questions like this on Monday afternoon when I bring my sorry ass in. I always give him a stupid answer like:

"I wanted to see your sexy self, obviously. You know I can't bear to be parted from you."

"Oh, well other than that, of course." I take my seat, and at this point Stan might talk to me about stuff I don't remember from the weekend, or ask me about what he missed this weekend when he was too busy getting some. He doesn't appreciate that observation too much, which makes me wonder if Wendy isn't all that.

Or maybe it's Stan.

Or maybe I just can't help but pick them apart. Partly because Kyle bitches to me about everything that's wrong with Wendy. Partly because there's a part of me that bitches about everything that's wrong with Stan.

It's just a cycle of petty jealousy. This sort of domino effect only happens though, when your favourite person doesn't hold you in the same respect.

_That's a pretty awesome theory_, I think. _Maybe I could do social experiments or some shit._

_*_

Everyone's at Stan's place after school. That's coz we're "studying".

It just so happens that Stan's got a new game that we _all_ want to play, on the day we were gonna have a study day.

Stan's Mom isn't stupid enough to believe something like that, so it's kind of lucky for Stan that she's not supposed to be home til late. He acts cool like it all just sort of worked out on accident. I doubt it. But that's the sort of stuff I keep to myself, so I don't sound like a complete ass.

I think that if people could read my thoughts, they'd think I didn't actually like Stan. Y'know coz of the whole petty jealous theory. But it's not that. I mean, I get along with him fine. I just think like I hate him sometimes, even though I don't.

I'm thinking about that right when he's asking me a question.

"Hello?"

I blinked a couple times. Am I back on Earth now? "Shit, yea? Sorry, I was like..."

"Yea, somewhere else." He laughed a bit, the way he always does when I get caught off guard by someone intruding my thinking space. "I was asking if you wanted a drink." I told him orange juice.

I sort of drifted in and out of focus for the rest of the night. Maybe you'd get a response. Maybe not.

I noticed that Kyle kept giving me this weird look. Kinda nervous. Like he was trying to act normal, but wasn't very good at it. I don't know what his problem was.

I was cool. I was great. I was fantastic, thank you very much. _But seriously, staring at me like that kinda puts me on edge._

It was pretty late. I should start walking home. "I'll walk with you." I turned to Kyle, who was already getting his stuff together. I shrugged and waited for him.

I walked to the end of Stan's street with him. He stayed quiet, like he was expecting something. "Why did you stop?" He asked me.

"Because, dude. You live in the opposite direction to me." I waited for him to respond. He almost didn't get it for a second, before quickly answering:

"Oh, yea, I know. I just meant like... I'd walk with you to here." He looks a little bit frustrated with himself at this point. I shot him a small smile.

"Are you okay?" He thought about it for a second, shrugged and answered.

"Yea. I'm fine, I guess. Are you?"

"Yea." _No. No, I'm not, coz you won't just admit that you want to know why I got all gay on your ass._ He smiled back at me. I waved a little, shoved my hands in my pockets, and left.

I got over it.

But everytime I brought it up again in my head, I'd start feeling all pissed off and hard done by. _Why couldn't he just ask anyway? How come I had to bring it up? I'm not bringing it up! _He_ can talk to _me _about it. _

I became increasingly aware that these thought processes weren't really helping anything. Wanting Kyle to bring it up first was a stupid idea, considering that _I_ was the one going crazy about it. But I just couldn't bring myself to say something. Maybe it was pride. But mostly, it was the overwhelming instinct that told me he'd probably just shrug it off.

So what now? Plan B, I guess. I hadn't even considered a Plan B up until this point.


	3. 2x Just

**A/N: **_I am so, so sick. Bad times. Anyway, I've been busy angsty rp-ing lately. And going to college. So if updates get slow, you know why. I think I'll end up reading back on a lot of these early chapters and tweaking things. Please excuse me if I do. I'm indecisive like that._

* * *

It was a Thursday. I was sat on Kyle's bed with a bag of frozen peas held to the side of my face. I probably couldn't get any more attractive. "I fell."

"Onto your face?"

"Pretty much." Kyle laughed a little bit, and took a seat in front of me.

"You're the only person I know who could do that." _Probably._

"I can stop here tonight, right?" I shifted slightly, my face was starting to feel a little numb.

"I guess. I'll tell Mom your parents are out all night and you can't get back in, okay? Just go along with it." I told him okay. He watched me for a moment, like I was some kind of test subject for him to examine. I fidgeted again, feeling awkward. His face eventually softened. "Have you heard?"

"I've heard a lot of things." I shrugged.

"About Stan." Kyle sighed, frowning at me. _Pff, you were the one who wasn't being specific._ I shrugged again. "Wendy broke up with him. Again." He said in a tone that would normally be reserved for "happy birthday" or some shit like that.

I started to wish I hadn't asked to stay over.

"You're happy about that?" I pulled the frozen peas away from my face. Kyle grimaced a little before scowling at me.

"Well, of course I am. Have you already forgotten everything I ever told you?" I stared blankly at him. Did he honestly just ask that question? This is, after all, the guy who apparently forgot that I kissed him like, five minutes afterwards.

There was a moment of silence in which I continued to stare at him (I think it turned into a glare by this point), and he broke eye contact, looking away at his desk anxiously. For a split second, I thought he was actually going to mention it.

He brought up another topic of conversation after that. He steered well clear of Stan, Wendy, and most importantly, the other week in his back yard.

I could barely sleep.

There was still no Plan B.

Normally I have something to do on a Friday night. But I felt awkward staying with Kyle for another night, and besides, he was doing some kinda gay BFF sleepover with Stan, anyway. Cartman was an absolute last resort option, and I wasn't feeling _that_ desperate tonight.

I opened the front door and found the front room to be clear of anybody. I'd kinda hoped Kevin would be in so I wouldn't be on my own all night. I shrugged it off and headed to the kitchen.

Here I found my Dad watching my Mom sourly, whilst she did that thing chicks do when they're pissed off and so must do _everything _really fucking loudly. She was currently washing dishes, which made me feel quite anxious, because if she carried on like that she was probably gonna break the contents of the sink.

I headed over to the fridge, hoping there might be some milk left over. My Dad turned to look at me for a second. After a short observation he asked "What happened to your face?"

I stared at him for a couple of seconds. I hesitated for a second and then answered "I just sorta fell." I closed the fridge door without really looking in it. I walked into my room with that really shitty heavy feeling you get when you think you might cry.

Everything seemed really still for a couple of seconds after I closed the door to my bedroom. I held my breath for a moment. The kitchen quickly erupted into commotion again, erasing the eerie silence.

I stretched out on my bed and blocked out the shouting and screaming and various objects being broken and trained my ears on the front door. Someone would get home soon.

Karen was back a couple hours later. By this point my parents had stopped hating each other. They do that. Just kinda go all bipolar on each other. It's always better if they hate each other at the start of the day and end on a good note. If it doesn't work out that way, I just try and find somewhere to be. There's no way I wanna be caught up in that shit.

I kinda wonder if everybody does this once they get married, and I just see it exaggerated via alcohol. I think fleetingly of the fact that I hate Kyle nearly all the time, but don't at the same time. I just always keep it to myself. I wonder if I spent the day drunk, would I blurt out that I just don't like anybody as much as I like him. I wonder if by the end of the day, I'd tell him how much I hate him for it.

I stopped thinking about it. I started thinking about the fact that he had Stan at his right now. I started thinking that Stan was single now. I started to think of what I'd probably be doing in Kyle's position.

I had to stop this. I had to stop letting every small thought snowball into something bigger and bigger, when I knew it was only going to hurt.

*

Stan's room has this kinda calming effect on me. Even as I'm lying on his bed thinking that he was on Kyle's bed last night, probably fucking him. I just sort of smile. Because I can't even feel pissed off in here. Even though I'm thinking that Stan's even more of a douche than normal coz he's acting all mopey.

It's probably because I don't _really_ hate him.

It's probably because I'm aware that I'm jealous of him. I can laugh at myself over this.

I sat up and watched him fiddling with his phone. I tried to think of a way to bring up Wendy so I could get all of his angsting out of the way early. Eventually I just sighed and stated bluntly: "Do I honestly have to ask you about it?"

He looked up at me, and then after a long, drawn out sigh, he answered. "She always does this." _Well, then get over it._

"I know, dude."

"But she always comes back eventually." I frowned at him.

"Jesus, Stan. Don't be such a fag." He blinked at me a couple times, as if I'd slapped him or something.

"What?"

"I mean, you know she does this all the time. What's the point? When she comes crawling back, all sorry, why don't you just say no?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest. For a second I thought that maybe I should have said nothing. Just let this whole thing run it's course.

Stan thought about it for a few seconds. Then he shrugged. "I don't know, man. I just... love her, I guess." I rolled my eyes. _Everybody around here seems to think that being legal means you're mature enough to fall in love. What's up with that?_

"Well... The least you could do is get a rebound so she stops thinking you're _completely_ pathetic." It had started out in my head, but it had come out of my mouth anyway. The calming effect of Stan's bedroom didn't appear to be working right now.

"Too far, dude." I couldn't gauge how hurt he was from his tone.

"I know, I'm sorry." I mumbled into my collar. I glanced up at him. He flashed me a small smile.

"It's fine."

He sat in silence for a moment, contemplating something. I quickly began searching for a topic of conversation. My gaze shifted to the ceiling, the way it does when I start thinking hard. _Helps me concentrate, for reals._

"Hey, Ken."

"What?" I looked away from the ceiling back at Stan again.

"Kyle told me." He answered. I thought for a second, not quite understanding what he meant.

"Kyle told you...?" I asked, frowning.

"Kyle told me about, y'know." Stan shrugged before continuing. "That time. At his. You like, kissed him." I felt my breath catch in my throat a little. I averted my stare towards the window in a way that was so exaggerated and obvious, there was no way I could play it off like it was no big deal.

Stan fidgeted in his seat, watching my awkward display of trying to act uninterested. "It's not a big deal."

"That's probably why he hasn't mentioned to me, then." I shrugged, aware that I wasn't doing a great job of not sounding pissed off. Stan didn't answer. I couldn't shake this awkward feeling. Not even now, when the hard part was over.

"Uh... so I guess you like him?" He asked eventually, when it was obvious I didn't really have anything else to say. Hell, I didn't have anything to say to that, either.

"I don't know." I made a small noise of disgust, probably aimed at myself, and leaned against the wall, still refusing to look Stan in the eye.

He dropped it. He probably realised I was hardly ready to give in and discuss. I was glad, in a way. It probably would have been better for me to just unload everything. I just hated the idea of somebody else _knowing_ everything. That kind of vulnerability just seems way too awkward. It seems too... _scary_. It's not like I can't keep my mouth shut and just deal with it. It cuts out the anxiety of relying on another person.

But it sure does have a habit of making you feel lonely.


End file.
